She too had seen. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. “Very,” and cracked a walnut appreciatively. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. Vorsack looked pale and pink. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured.
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